Wounds
inflicted by a sharp knife,
heal more quickly than wounds
inflicted by a
sharp tongue.

Unknown


How immense appear to us
the sins that we have not
committed.


Arguments

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairytale,
And her mouth on a valentine.

She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.

She loves me all that she can,
and her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
and she never will be all mine.

St. Vincent Millay
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